for you, i'd bleed myself dry
by coffeehelps
Summary: The night that Booth took a bullet for Brennan in front of that karaoke stage was forever ingrained in Brennan's mind. Every year, on the anniversary of that night, Brennan experiences those volatile feelings all over again… and they help her realize just how much Booth means to her.


**So I've never written for **_**Bones**_** before, but I recently finished watching the whole series and absolutely adored it. I fell in love with Booth, and I loved his relationship with Brennan. I know the show has been over for a while now, but I thought I'd give it a shot because I just had so many ideas.**

**I find Brennan extremely difficult to write, but hopefully I've done alright, given that most of this is from her POV.**

**I couldn't find the exact date for when the shooting actually took place in the **_**Bones**_** universe, so I just used the date that "The Wannabe in the Weeds" aired.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything. The story title comes from the song "Yellow" by Coldplay.**

* * *

**first.**

**May 12, 2009**

Temperance Brennan opened her eyes.

Her bedroom was still completely dark, and a quick glance at the clock on the bedside table revealed that it was only three in the morning. She didn't have to think very hard to figure out why she had woken up so early: her heart was beating rapidly in her chest, her body was covered in a light sheen of sweat, her hands were shaking, and the nightmare was still fresh in her mind.

Raising her hands in front of her face, Brennan stared hard at them. Even though they were shaking, they were perfectly clean—there was no sign of the blood that had caked them in her dreams, that had squeezed between her fingers as she desperately tried to stop the bleeding.

Closing her eyes again, Brennan covered her face with her hands as memories of Booth's heaving chest beneath her fingers assaulted her. Even with her eyes closed, it was like she was there once again, and here was nothing she could do to stop it. She saw his pale face, his wide eyes, remembered the way his hand grasped her as she pleaded for him to hang on.

Gasping, Brennan was annoyed to feel tears burning in her eyes. She pressed the heels of her hands to her eyes, as if she could physically push the tears back. Even though it had been a year since the shooting, she suddenly felt as though it had happened yesterday

Her mental calendar alerted her to the fact that it was May 12th—it had been exactly a year since Booth had been shot. Since he had taken a bullet for _her_. And in that whole entire year, they hadn't discussed the shooting, or the fact that he had saved her life by stepping in front of that bullet.

Brennan's heart thudded in her chest, and her breath began to quicken once again. She had spent so long burying her feelings of that day, and the last thing she wanted was for them to resurface. First she thought that Booth was dead, and then she had spent two weeks thinking he was dead, and had to struggle with coming to terms with the fact that she was never going to see him again.

Then to find out it had all been just a ruse, and she hadn't been told that Booth was still alive because they had become an experiment for a childish psychologist… it had been too much. They had one confrontation, and that had been it. They had barely scratched the surface of what either of them had been feeling. Brennan had pushed it all down, hiding it away as she was so used to doing. Now, exactly a year after the shooting, it was all coming up once again… after one nightmare that she refused to give too much thought to.

Without giving herself a chance to think about it, Brennan reached for her phone. She selected Booth's number and pressed the phone to her ear as she pulled her knees to her chest and wrapped her free arm around them.

The phone rang four times, and Brennan almost hung up. He had to have been sleeping, and all that she would have succeeded in doing was waking him, and she knew what Booth was like when he didn't have enough sleep. She was about to hang up when, on the fifth ring, Booth picked up.

"Bones?" The word was slurred, and he was clearly half asleep, but he had seen who was calling and it had immediately forced his brain to wakefulness. "Wha's goin' on? You okay?"

"I'm alright," Brennan assured him. "I just… I, uh… Booth…" It wasn't often that Brennan found herself at a loss for words, but she suddenly couldn't explain why she needed to hear Booth's voice. All she knew was that she had instantly relaxed at the sound of his husky, sleepy voice. Brennan felt infinitely better, and her reaction wasn't one that she could explain.

"Bones…" Booth yawned, and she could imagine him stretching in his bed. In the back of her mind, distractedly, she wondered what he wore to bed. "You do realize that it's after three o'clock in the morning, right?"

"I didn't… oh." Brennan dragged her hand through her hair and closed her eyes briefly. "Booth, I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to wake you."

It could have been something in her voice, or it could have just been the fact that Booth knew Brennan so well, he could easily detect that something was bothering her. Sounding more awake now, he said, "Nah, it's okay, Bones. What's up?"

"Booth, could you…" Maybe it was because of the early hour, but it was more likely because of the way the nightmare had shaken her. Either way, without thinking, Brennan said, "Could you tell me a story?"

Booth immediately started telling her about Parker's last soccer game and the goal that he had made, and Brennan settled back on her pillows. She could imagine the smile on his face, the way he gestured with one hand as he spoke, and those thoughts, coupled with his gentle voice in her ear, reassured her that he was well and truly alive.

Brennan closed her eyes, and she fell asleep to the sound of his voice.

* * *

**second.**

**May 12, 2010**

This time, Brennan was prepared.

It had started on Sunday, when Brennan had woken up with an accelerated heartbeat and the vestiges of a nightmare that she couldn't quite remember. She knew enough, though, to know that it had been about the night Booth had been shot at the Checker Box. It was that time of year, and Brennan wasn't going to stand a repeat of last year.

It didn't help that the Grave Digger trial was the following day. The memories of that night at the Checker Box was mixing with her nightmares about the Grave Digger, and it was almost too much for her.

She had been working herself past the point of exhaustion for as long as she could remember, and she knew that this was the perfect time of year to pull a few all-nighters.

It began early in the week. Booth was working a case with the cyber crimes department, so she hadn't seen much of him, which meant that , even though they still met for coffee and still talked to one another on the phone, he wasn't able to keep as close of an eye on her as he normally did. Therefore, he wasn't aware of the crazy hours she had been working.

So Brennan was in limbo, carefully going over remains, doing her best to keep her focus on the bones in front of her. It was easy to get lost in the bones, in the stories that they told. She was good at it, and she excelled at pushing everything away until there was nothing but the bones.

It was incredibly annoying, then, to discover that the thought of what day it was constantly in the back of her mind. Brennan could stare at these bones, and could learn all of the secrets they had to tell her, but there was always that little voice telling her that _this_ was the day that Booth stood in front of a bullet and got shot. For her.

Huffing out a sigh, Brennan gently set the clavicle in her hands on the table and then quickly snapped her latex gloves off. With as much violence as she could muster, she hurled her gloves at the wall opposite her. She watched, unsatisfied, as they only sailed a few feet through the air before they dropped to the floor. It wasn't like she could throw the bones on the table, or any of the delicate equipment surrounding her. It would be highly illogical to throw any of those things, yet she couldn't explain her sudden anger.

Brennan put her hands on the edge of the table and dropped her head forward, closing her eyes as she inhaled deeply. She would give herself a few moments, and then she could go back to identifying the set of remains in front of her. Maybe if she acknowledged that it had been two years that Booth had been shot—and recognized the fact that there had been too many close calls since then, what with the Grave Digger capturing him the year before and then the brain tumor after that—then she could get her focus back and forget about all of the feelings she couldn't quite untangle.

It was good to have a plan. Acknowledge the problem; take stock of all the variables; figure out a solution. It was a course of action that had never failed her in the past, so why should it be any different now?

"Bones?"

Brennan jumped at the familiar voice, cursing the fact that she had let herself get so distracted that she hadn't even noticed Booth entering limbo. Him and his damn sniper training made it easy for him to be sneaky when he wanted to be, but she was usually more aware of it. It was only adding to her stress that she had allowed him to sneak up on her.

"Damn it, Booth!" Brennan snapped. "You could have at least knocked."

Booth tucked his hands into his pockets and rocked back on his heels, ignoring the fact that limbo didn't have an actual door on it. "Have you had dinner yet?" he questioned.

Brennan made a non-committal noise in the back of her throat. It was better than nothing, but Booth knew her well enough to know that she hadn't eaten anything since lunch—more than that, he knew that the only reason she had even consumed lunch was because Angela had insisted that Brennan eat _at least_ half of a veggie and hummus sandwich.

The only reason Brennan had even gone in the first place was because Angela had not-so-delicately reminded her that the Grave Digger trial was the next day, and that she needed to keep her strength up if she expected to get through the trial at all. It wouldn't do to have Brennan's stomach growling in the middle of Caroline's opening statement, and Brennan knew that Angela was right.

"I ordered Chinese," Booth said as he tucked his hands into his pockets.

"I'm working," Brennan retorted immediately.

He shrugged his shoulders as he came around to the other side of the table. Brennan pulled on another pair of gloves, and she leaned over the examination table once again, picking up one of the ulnas and staring at it as if it held the secrets to the universe. Booth, used to talking to his partner while she was focusing on her work so intently, tapped his fingers along the edge of the table.

"Look, I'm hungry, and the food is being delivered here. You might as well eat with me." He ducked his head, making eye contact with her. "We have a big day tomorrow."

Brennan's shoulders tensed, and she froze as she reached for another bone. Her hesitation was brief, lasting for less than a second, but Booth saw it. He sighed and reached across the examination table, catching her wrist with gentle fingers before she could pick up another bone.

"Bones," he said softly. They hadn't discussed the upcoming Grave Digger trial, past the evidence they had compiled against Heather Taffet. They kept it all very clinical, official, without mentioning all of the feelings they had buried over the years.

Booth and Brennan didn't talk about happened after their respective captures. They saved one another, helped each other those first few days after their rescues, but they never talked about it after that. Booth had been thinking about the trial for days, remembering how he had felt on that ship as he hallucinated his dead friend, recalling how it felt as they desperately tried to find where Brennan and Hodgins were buried alive. He could only imagine how Brennan was feeling, and it made his heart ache.

"Booth, let me go," Brennan whispered. She tried to keep her voice firm and steady, but she just couldn't manage it. She stared at where his tan fingers were wrapped around her own pale wrist, wondering why that simple touch made her breathe easier.

"No," Booth said simply. His thumb stroked over the pulse point at her wrist. "Come eat with me."

Brennan's immediate instinct was to say no, but she found herself saying, "Alright," instead. She stripped off her latex gloves and set them aside, stepping around the table as Booth joined her. He put his hand on the small of her back as they walked into her office, and together, they unloaded all of their favorite Thai food. They ate together, and once they were finished, Brennan stood up and silently returned to limbo, where she began to examine the remains she was attempting to identify once again.

Booth followed her in silence, leaning back against the wall as Brennan returned to her work. He said nothing as she worked through the night, and she didn't show any sign of exhaustion until three o'clock in the morning. It was then that Booth stepped forward, his hand at the small of her back as he pulled her away from the table and guided her back towards her office.

Brennan woke after only a few hours, stretched out on her couch. Booth was fast asleep in her desk chair. As the last vestiges of sleep left her, Brennan allowed herself to think about how with Booth there, sleeping in the same room as her, her nightmares had been at bay.

* * *

**third.**

**May 12, 2011**

Jerking awake, it took Brennan a few moments to realize where she was.

She was in Booth's bed.

And she was naked.

And she was wrapped in his arms.

Her heart was thudding in her chest as she tried to separate the remnants of her nightmare from reality. It had started with Vincent Nigel Murray getting shot—a replay of the events they had lived through earlier that day. It ended with Booth being shot, once again on the stage of the Checker Box.

After the trauma earlier that day, the nightmare was simply too much. Brennan sat up, and the sheet that had been haphazardly draped over her body fell away. She buried her face in her hands, her shoulders shaking as she tried her best to hold back her tears.

Her movements woke Booth but she didn't notice until his warm hand slid over her back, his calloused fingers stroking her skin. Brennan sank back into his touch, welcoming the feel of his hands on her skin. It was only hours after he had first touched her, and Brennan found it hard to imagine life without his hands on her ever again.

"Bones," Booth murmured. He brushed her hair back from her face as he ducked down to look at her. His bare chest pressed against her back, his arms coming around to encircle her and hold her close. "It's okay."

It was only then that Brennan realized that she was crying once again, despite her efforts to keep her tears at bay. She sniffled and wiped her fingers under her eyes, annoyed that she was crying for the umpteenth time that night. Booth pressed his lips to her temple, lingering there as his arms tightened around her.

"It's okay to be sad," he continued.

Brennan shook her head, struggling to understand the feelings coursing through her. She was extremely sad due to Vincent's death, ecstatic that she now knew Booth in the way she had been desperate to for over a year now. Her nightmares about Vincent and Booth terrified her, but now, being wrapped in Booth's arms, his skin against hers and his lips at her temple, she felt loved, and safe, and… happy.

"Vincent is gone," she whispered, finally. "And you… you were shot, Booth." Another tear slipped down her cheek, and she didn't bother to wipe it away.

Booth shifted on the bed, turning Brennan in his arms until they were facing each other. He reached up and cupped her cheek, wiping her tears away. He had been through as much as she had, Brennan knew. He was the one who had pressed his hands to Vincent's chest, trying to stop the blood, after all.

"Bones, it's alright," he soothed as he stroked her cheek. He couldn't bring Vincent back for her, but he could be there, and he could comfort her. "I'm here. Nothing is going to happen. I'm right here."

Booth knew that she had a nightmare, but he thought she was talking about him getting shot by Broadsky—not about another time he had been shot, when he had stepped in front of a bullet for her. Brennan wasn't too keen on correcting him, given the task he was up against the next day. He didn't need to worry about her or the nightmares she had been having for the past three years.

There would be a time to tell him about them, she was sure. But now wasn't that time.

"Promise me that you'll be careful tomorrow, Booth," Brennan whispered. Her own hands came up to cup his face, and she closed her eyes as she pressed her forehead to his. "If something happened to you, I couldn't…" She trailed off, unwilling to actually say the words out loud.

Booth couldn't promise his safety, even though he would do everything in his power to make sure that he would return to Brennan. After all these years, he finally had her, had everything that he had been dreaming of. He wasn't about to let that go, and he certainly wouldn't let a man like Broadsky take it from him.

So he kissed her instead, his fingers tangling in her hair as they both reclined back on the bed. His hands stroked over her body, and Brennan mirrored each touch of Booth's hands with one of her own. His lips followed his hands, tracing over her body and relearning the dips and curves that he had discovered only a few hours ago.

They way he knew her, though… it made all the difference, and Brennan found herself going over the edge before he was even inside her. It was only after, as her body was still convulsing, that Booth finally pressed inside her again.

He kept the movements of his hips slow and measured, showing his extreme control even as she clenched and rippled around him. Booth stroked his hands over her again, cupping her breasts as he moved within her, and Brennan moaned and wrapped his arms around her, holding his body close to hers.

They came together after that, and Booth rolled to his back and drew Brennan against his chest. She pressed her ear over his heart, listening to the reassuring beat as her fingers covered an old scar… the scar that he had gotten when he had taken that bullet for her at the Checker Box.

* * *

**fourth.**

**May 12, 2012**

"Christine is down for the night," Brennan announced as she entered the bedroom. "And only half an hour after her usual schedule. Which means…" She perched herself on the edge of the bed and shot Booth a seductive look.

They had returned from Los Angeles two nights before, and it had been a bit of a struggle to get Christine back to her usual schedule. She had missed her parents dearly, and Booth and Brennan had missed her just as much. They had taken an earlier flight back just so they could spend the whole day with their daughter, and it had taken some work for them to adjust to the schedule once again, what with the jet lag and all.

Booth smiled at her, and he joined her on their bed. He brushed her hair back from her face, as he tended to do, and Brennan leaned into his touch. "You haven't been sleeping well the past couple of nights," he murmured.

Brennan resisted the urge to curse. The nightmares that she had every year had started while they were in Los Angeles; every time she had woken up, Booth had been asleep, so she had assumed that he had no idea about her nightmares.

They weren't as awful as they had been during the previous years—the years where Brennan hadn't been able to admit that she was in love with Booth, the year where he had been with Hannah and not with her… they were all times that Brennan didn't care to remember, especially not now, since she was so happy with Booth and their daughter.

The nightmares were still there, though, even though they weren't as vivid as they always had been. Now it was just the feelings of terror that woke her, that horrible loss she had felt when Angela had told her that Booth had died in the hospital. Even four years later, those were feelings that were hard to let go of… and she had still never expressly told Booth about her nightmares involving that particular time.

It wasn't something that they had ever really talked about, and Brennan figured that after everything they had been through, they didn't need to revisit something that was a black stain on their history. She had been so afraid to admit just how much Booth meant to her all those years ago, and part of her wondered just how much pain they could have avoided if she had just admitted it then. They were finally happy now, and Brennan didn't necessarily want to dwell in the past.

"It's nothing," Brennan told Booth with a dismissive wave of her hand. She had assumed that he had been asleep those nights she had woken up, with her heart beating too fast in her chest and the memory of his blood underneath her hands. She had lain still in the bed on those nights, hoping that she could avoid waking him up.

It was easier now, since she could wake up and see him beside her, know that he was healthy and well and alive. Booth may have been ready to sacrifice his life for her, even all those years ago, but he was here now, and he knew that she loved him.

She had been afraid, back then, to let him know how much she loved him. The fact that he was willing to give up everything for her terrified Brennan beyond words, and she had held on to her feelings, even when he had admitted his own for her. Brennan had held on to her fear—among other things—and it had kept her apart from Booth far longer than it should have.

He was more than willing to give up his life for her. Brennan couldn't bear to allow that.

Things were different now, and they were together, and Brennan was confident in thinking that nothing would break them up, despite evidence that monogamous relationships didn't always last. She was following Booth's lead on this, however, and decided that going with her gut was much more preferable than following the statistics. She loved Booth too much to pay attention to the numbers.

"Bones…" He cupped her cheeks in his hands and looked into her eyes. It was the soulful, brown-eyed gaze that she could never say no to, never turn away from, no matter what he asked of her. "Please, tell me what's wrong."

There was no hesitation when Brennan spoke. Her response was immediate and heartfelt. "I have nightmares, about when you were shot," Brennan admitted. At the way Booth's brow furrowed in confusion, Brennan knew that she had to clarify, no matter how much it pained her. "…When you were shot at the Checker Box. When you… you stood in front of Pam Nunan's bullet for me."

Booth blinked at her, shocked at the words that were coming out of Brennan's mouth. He had never expected that, after all these years, she would admit to something so emotional about an event that had transpired between them years before. It was true, she had been passionate in her response when she realized that he was still alive, and she had shown just as much passion when she had confronted him in his bathroom.

Looking into her eyes now, Booth could see that these nightmares had affected her much more than she let on… probably for much longer, too. Booth drew her to him, stroking his hands over her back as he marveled over the fact that they were here now, together, and so very much in love.

Booth asked the obvious question, then: "These aren't the first time you've had these nightmares. Are they?"

Unable to lie to him, Brennan instead told him the truth: "No. It's not."

"Bones," Booth breathed, his heart aching. He drew her closer, pressing his face into her neck as he embraced her. She slid her arms around his waist, burying her face into his chest and held on to him just as tightly as he was holding her. "How long?" He could guess, of course, but he needed to hear her say it.

"There were… nightmares after you got shot. You know, during those two weeks," Brennan admitted. She was well aware that she was skirting around Booth's question, but old habits died hard, after all.

"And?" Booth pressed. He kept his hands moving over her back, his touch soothing and gentle.

It was easier to admit this all to him here and now, while he was holding her like this. "Do you know what time of year it is?"

Booth had to think about it for a second, but after a quick mental calculation, he realized that it was four years to the day that Booth had been shot by Pam Nunan. It all made so much sense, now, and it was killing him to know that she had spent the past four years dealing with this on her own.

"Oh, Bones," he murmured into her hair. "I know. I know, and I'm sorry."

Closing her eyes, Brennan inhaled Booth's comforting scent. "They're not as bad as they used to be," she told him, hoping to offer some reassurance. "They're not the same as when… when it first happened."

Booth couldn't believe that after all this time, she was the one trying to help him, assure him that she was okay. If anyone should be doing the reassuring, it was him. He pulled back and dropped a gentle kiss to her lips.

"Will you tell me about them?"

Brennan's eyes darted to the side. "I don't know what that could possibly do, Booth. There's no need to relive all of that."

"It could help to talk about it," Booth told her. "I know this is something you've been dealing with on your own, but maybe… maybe talking about it will help end them."

Brennan pushed back a little, but didn't pull herself out of Booth's arms entirely. "You know how I feel about psychology, Booth. And how would you even know? It's not like we've ever really talked about what happened then."

"Bones." Shifting on the bed, Booth turned so that he was facing Brennan, and he took her hands in his. "You have to know why I did it, don't you?"

Brennan's brow furrowed in that familiar scowl that he found so adorable all those years ago. "Because you do not think before jumping into a reckless situation, and because you don't think about what it means for the other people in your life before you put yourself in danger—"

Deciding to ignore her disapproving tone of voice, Booth put his hands on either side of her face and looked into her blue eyes. "Because I love you, Bones. I loved you even then, even if I couldn't admit it to myself. If I had to choose between saving you and not getting shot, I'd take that bullet for you. Every time."

Brennan released the breath that she hadn't even realized she had been holding. She was not thrilled with the fact that Booth would still put himself in danger to save her, but she was gratified to hear that he loved her then. She hadn't been able to come to terms with her own feelings then, but for some reason it helped to know that he had been harboring feelings of his own.

So Brennan kissed him, then, practically climbing into his lap in her effort to get close to him. He wrapped his arms around her, holding her tightly to him. "I love you, Booth," she whispered. She needed to say it, needed to have him hear her say it.

"Let me hold you, baby," Booth murmured.

So, still wrapped in Booth's arms, Brennan reclined with him on their bed. That night, lying together, her nightmares stayed at bay.

* * *

**fifth.**

**May 12, 2013**

After everything they had been through, something like _this_ happened to them?

The anger that Booth kept bottled up inside grew every single day. He couldn't believe that he let some sneaky little rat bastard threaten him into breaking off the proposal with Brennan. This wasn't how it could end for them.

And yet, it hadn't ended. Not in the literal sense, anyway. She was still there, with him. She hadn't taken Christine and run—she was still beside him in bed every night, still there in the morning when he made coffee and breakfast.

Even though Brennan hadn't run, even though she was still so close, she was still far away. Brennan barely looked at him, hardly talked to him, and it killed him a little more every day. He was trying to show her how much he loved her, just how much he needed her, but it had been less than a month since he had called off the engagement. The pain they were both feeling was still too fresh.

The worst part was, he was very aware of what time of year it was. It had only been a year since he had become aware of the nightmares that Brennan had suffered since 2008, and Booth was heartbroken at the thought of her having to deal with them all alone once again.

Well, he wasn't going to let her. No matter what was happening between them, he wasn't going to allow her to suffer. He knew he had caused enough pain as it was, and he wasn't about to let her experience anymore because of him. She might very well push him away, but he would do his hardest to prove to her that he was still there for her, no matter what happened.

After reading Christine a story and putting her to bed, Booth had watched a game before finally going to bed early himself. Sleep eluded him, though, just as he knew it would. He waited for hours, knowing that, eventually, Brennan would climb into bed next to him. Sometimes he would have to wait until nearly dawn, but she always came to bed with him. _Always_.

Around two o'clock in the morning, Brennan finally pulled the covers back and slid into bed. True, it was all the way on the opposite side of the bed, as far away from Booth that she could get. But she was still there.

* * *

No matter how hard she tried, Brennan just couldn't stay away.

She didn't want to have to be in bed next to Booth every night, but she couldn't help it. She could stay away, until dawn at the latest, and then the urge to be next to him would overcome her. It wasn't rational, but in the dark of the night, in bed next to him, she could pretend that everything between them was the same.

She heard Booth when he told her that he loved her, but she was unable to forget the night he told her that they shouldn't get married. After she had opened up to him, wanted the same thing that he wanted because she knew it would make him happy, since that was all she had ever wanted for him… it hurt. It hurt more than she was willing to admit.

Her heart ached, every day, and it was a feeling that she was all too familiar with. She had spent years locking her heartache away, pushing it back until it didn't matter, but Booth… Booth had changed all of it for her. She couldn't hide from him anymore, no matter how she tried to keep her emotions locked away.

She didn't want to fall asleep, but she was just so exhausted. Sleep came over her anyway, forcing her mind and her body into a deep sleep in an effort to recover. And, as always—just as they did every year—the nightmares came.

It was worse this time, nearly as bad as it had been during those two weeks when she really thought Booth had died. It was like she could feel his blood under her fingers again, like she was watching the light fade from his eyes. In her nightmare, she was screaming for him, begging him to open his eyes, to just come back to her.

What Brennan didn't know was that the words she was screaming her in nightmares were being whimpered out loud, in the silence of her bedroom with Booth. She was pleading, begging him to come back to her, and she meant it in both her nightmare of Booth being shot and the reality that they were now in.

Booth's heart broke for Brennan, and in that moment, he was desperate to tell her everything. There had to be a way that he could explain what Pelant was making him do, and with his hand on her shoulder, he intended to wake Brennan up and tell her everything.

And then his eyes landed on the laptop on top of the dresser. It was off and closed, but Booth knew that there were still ways for it to be hacked, for someone to listen in even if the laptop was powered down. The same could be said for both of their phones, especially since both devices were on their bedside tables.

In the world that they lived in now, someone was always watching, always listening. That someone was Pelant. Booth couldn't risk Pelant hurting five innocent people, because he knew that's exactly what Pelant would do. Pelant had already proven that he would kill for his own means, and Booth couldn't allow that to happen when he had the chance to stop it. And if Pelant was willing to hurt five innocent people, God only knew what he would do to Brennan. That was something that Booth simply couldn't allow.

Booth dropped his head, blinking against the tears he could feel forming in his eyes. Brennan whimpered again, and then she cried out his name—she was calling out for him, begging. Booth's tears fell then, but he simply didn't care. He shook Brennan's shoulder and then rolled her over, pulling her into his arms as he tucked his face into the crook of her neck and shoulder.

Brennan came awake slowly, with her mind struggling. She knew she was safe and warm, wrapped in the strong arms she loved so much, but the remnants of her nightmare pulled at her consciousness. She quickly realized that she was surrounded by Booth, with his arms around her and her face pressed into his chest. She was encompassed by him—his arms, his scent, everything that he was. It terrified her and exhilarated her, much as it had that first night that they had been together.

It had been two years since they had decided to embark on a life with one another, and Brennan thought that they had gotten past things like this. It was clear that there was still something holding him back, and it ate at her to wonder if it was something that she did, or something that she had said. Those old insecurities from when they had first got together—insecurities that she thought they had overcome together—battered at her rational mind.

Brennan gasped and pushed against his chest, hoping to extract herself from his arms, because it was simply too much. She felt the horrible urge to cry, but that was the last thing she wanted, and she bit down hard on her bottom lip and blinked several times to keep the tears at bay. Brennan closed her eyes and inhaled deeply, but all she caught was Booth's scent, which didn't help at all.

Then, she felt dampness on her forehead, and she knew that it hadn't come from her. Craning her neck back, she saw that there were tears streaking down Booth's cheeks. "I'm sorry," he whispered. "God, Bones, I'm so sorry. I'm sorry."

Something in Brennan broke, then, even more than it had that night that Booth had called off their engagement. She knew that in the morning, she would be able to push this aside, and go back to keeping the distance she so desperately needed to keep herself together for the sake of their daughter.

Now, however—after her nightmare, and after seeing Booth in tears—she needed this connection with him. Brennan slipped her arms around his neck and held him close as he cried. Once his tears had subsided, she kissed him. And she let him kiss her back, let him touch her, let him give her pleasure as she took and gave just as much back to him.

* * *

**sixth.**

**May 12, 2014**

They were in the club together, hanging back even after they had interviewed all of the possible suspects. It was obvious to Brennan that Booth was trying to avoid going back to the office, since he hated being chained to his desk. She was beyond proud that he was being considered for the promotion for the field office in Germany—and she truly believed that he was shoe-in for the position. There was no one more qualified than Booth, and the FBI would be foolish not to give him this opportunity.

Even though Brennan was sure that he needed to go back and continue to prepare for the interview with the Congressional sub-committee, she allowed Booth to hang around Madame's Apple, sensing that he needed a break from all the prep work. Her suspicions were confirmed when Booth ordered a beer and drank half of it in three gulps. Brennan arched an eyebrow in his direction, waiting for an explanation, even though she already knew what it was.

"I need a break," Booth muttered, confirming what she already knew. "Just… half an hour, Bones. Just give me half an hour."

Brennan nodded her head at the bartender, indicating that she would order the same as her husband. She took the beer that he slid across the bar towards her and drank from it slowly. Normally, she wouldn't dare to drink on the job, but she sensed that Booth needed this break from reality.

"You're going to be alright, you know," Brennan told him. "If anyone deserves this promotion, it's you."

Booth smiled at her, then, and all of the tension was released from his shoulders. It was one of those smiles that she loved to see—bright and wonderful, full of the love that she had been seeing for years… she had been seeing it since before they had gotten together, really. It was always a little humbling to see Booth smile at her like that, because it showed her just how much she meant to him.

Booth opened his mouth, but his voice caught in his throat when the song playing in the club changed. The opening strains of "Girls Just Want to Have Fun" began, and Brennan froze with her beer halfway to her lips at the same time Booth's heart stopped in his chest. Her eyes went wide and her shoulders tensed—Booth knew that look, even though it had been a long time since he had seen it. Booth knew that she was about to bolt, and there wasn't a damn thing he could do to stop it.

Sure enough, Brennan set her beer aside, muttered an apology, and darted out the doors of the club. Booth slid a twenty over towards the bartender, told him to keep the change, and then ran out after his wife.

He knew why she had reacted so strongly to the song, just as he knew what time of year it was. Last year had been difficult enough as it was, and he wasn't about to let some song make things worse than it had been during that horrible time.

Thankfully, Brennan was waiting in the car. Her arms were wrapped tightly around her body, and she had the heat running at full blast, even though it was an unseasonably warm spring day. Booth left it on, knowing that she needed it. Still, he stripped his suit jacket off and unbuttoned a few buttons on his shirt, in an effort to keep the heat from getting to him.

"Bones…" he began, but Brennan made a wordless noise in the back of her throat, indicating that he should be quiet. So Booth fell silent and drove back to their house, knowing that she needed some time to pull herself together.

They were in their driveway when Brennan finally spoke. "I haven't heard that song since 2008," she revealed. "Since… since that night."

Booth blinked at her, since this was news to him. The Cyndi Lauper song had been a favorite of hers and her mother's, so Booth had always left any mention of the song alone—especially since he found out about the nightmares Brennan had been having. That song belonged to Bones and her mother, and he had always hoped that someone as crazy as Pam Nunan hadn't taken it away from her.

"Bones," he said again. His throat constricted, and he hated that he had never asked about that song, because he could never listen to it again, himself. He still remembered the piano playing that song, even as he was bleeding, with Bones's hands pressed to his chest as she pleaded for him to keep his eyes open.

"I can't…" Brennan looked at him, with those blue eyes swimming with tears. She was trying her hardest to keep them at bay, Booth knew, but she was barely holding on. "I can't hear that song. I just can't, Booth."

"I know, Bones," Booth murmured soothingly. He slipped a hand behind Brennan's neck, and was relieved when she didn't push him away. His thumb stroked over the nape of her neck, and she closed her eyes at the comforting touch. "I know. Neither can I."

Brennan nodded her head at his confession before she surged forward, pressing her lips to his. Her kiss was full of desperation and passion, her fingers gripping at his shirt as if she never wanted to let go. Booth wrapped his arms around her, holding her against him without care for the gearshift between them. Brennan solved that particular dilemma by climbing over it and straddling Booth's lap, even though he was still in the driver's seat.

She ground against the hardness she could feel between her legs, even as Booth groaned and stroked his hands under her blouse, running his calloused fingertips along the naked skin of her back and over the clasp of her bra. He wanted to feel her, wanted to have everything she had to offer, even though they were sitting in the driver's seat of his government-issued SUV.

Brennan needed him, and there wasn't a force on heaven or Earth that could move her from Booth's lap in that moment. They struggled together, fumbling to unbutton one another's pants and get them down far enough so that they were bare to one another's touch. Of course, Booth got her pants and panties down first (how did he _always_ do that?), and his hands were between her legs before Brennan even knew what was happening.

She gasped and paused with Booth's zipper halfway down, pressing her face into his neck as he buried two fingers into her. She was already so ready, so wet and slick for him, that there was no denying what she needed. Booth's fingers got her even closer, nearly pushing her over the edge—but Brennan wanted more than that.

She slid her fingers behind the nape of his neck and pressed her lips to his temple, even as she ground her hips against his fingers and tried to keep her orgasm at bay. "I want you inside me," she whispered.

Booth grunted, but he was helpless against her. He had never been able to deny Brennan a single thing that she wanted, and he certainly wasn't going to start now. He allowed her a few seconds to draw the rest of his zipper down, and to push his trousers and boxer briefs down and around his knees, before he captured her lips once again.

They were far too old to be having sex in a car, but it didn't matter to either of them in that moment—they were desperate for one another, unable to hold back the passion and desperation that they felt. So there, in their driveway, in their car, they became one, connected in that way that Booth had told her about so long ago… in that way that she had been doing with him for years now.

"God," Brennan panted as he pressed into her—it was the only time she ever called out the higher being that Booth believed in. "I love you." Brennan's hands pressed onto his shoulders as she rolled her hips, taking him deeper. "I love you so much."

"Fuck, Bones," Booth grunted. His fingers dug into her hips, and he loved the way she gave into him, even though she was straddling him in the front seat of his SUV. "I love you, too. So much, baby. So much."

They came together after that, and Brennan held onto his shoulders as she pressed her face into his neck. Booth's pulse beat hard against her lips, and she reveled in that feeling. He was alive, and he was with her and this… this is what mattered.

* * *

**seventh.**

**May 12, 2015**

It had been a long, rough couple of weeks for everyone.

Sighing, Brennan rubbed her hands over her very pregnant stomach, wincing when the baby landed a particularly sharp kick to her kidney. The baby seemed to know that she was feeling a little on edge, and it probably had something to do with the uneasy sleep she had been experiencing over the past few days.

Brennan was thankful that her usual nightmares hadn't started until after they had solved the Rockwell case—that had been too important, and she had been too focused on that work to think about what time of year it was.

Once the case was over, however, the nightmares had returned with a vengeance. Brennan couldn't help but wonder if those nightmares were that much worse because of Booth's somewhat strange behavior as of late. She was worried about him, and she didn't have to know anything about psychology to know that her concern over Booth was making her nightmares worse.

It was early on a Saturday morning, and it was the first one that they had spent at home in a few weeks. Brennan was looking forward to spending the day with Christine and Booth—maybe a little bit of normalcy would make everything feel better, even if it was just for a little bit.

"Hey." Brennan looked up from the mug of tea she had been staring at for the past half an hour at the sound of her husband's voice. He was wearing a pair of plaid pajama pants but was bare-chested, and he shuffled into the kitchen with bare feet. "I woke up and you weren't there."

Brennan lifted the mug to her lips, took a sip, and grimaced at the cold tea. "Sorry," she said. "Why don't you go back to sleep? You need the rest. It's been a trying few weeks."

Booth crossed the kitchen to her and put one hand on her protruding belly, and one on her cheek. "You need the rest, too." His thumb stroked her cheek. "Don't think I haven't forgotten what time of year it is."

Brennan looked away from Booth; for the first time since she had finally admitted that she even had the nightmares about the shooting, she couldn't look him in the eye and talk about them. "Booth, you don't need to be concerned about this. Really. We have other things to worry about."

They really did. This had been a very difficult year for them. First with the attack from Delta Force that Booth had survived, followed by his arrest and his time in jail. That alone had almost been too much, but they had been working through it and had made a lot of progress. Sweets' death, though, was an entirely different matter.

It was something that Booth still refused to talk about, and Brennan was willing to give him all the time he needed. They—everyone at the Jeffersonian, and everyone that had worked closely with Sweets, that is—were all still having trouble dealing with the loss of Sweets, and even though it was something they had to talk about, they still struggled with it.

"You woke up early because of a nightmare, didn't you?" Booth asked gently.

Brennan bit her lip. "I don't want to talk about it, Booth." Even as she spoke, though, she leaned into the hand Booth still had cupping her cheek. Despite everything that had happened over the last year—and despite what was still happening—Brennan still drew an immeasurable amount of comfort from Booth.

"Bones…"

"Booth, I love you," Brennan blurted. "I love you, and I'm worried about you."

For the briefest of seconds, something flickered in Booth's eyes. It was gone before Brennan could even begin to decipher what it was, and he was leaning forward and kissing her. The kiss was passionate and deep and just a little bit desperate. She leaned into him, their baby between them, and kissed him back with just as much passion anyway.

"I love you too, Bones," he whispered against her lips, his fingers weaving into her hair. "Never forget that."

Brennan tucked herself under Booth's chin, wrapping her arms around him as best as she could, despite the bump from her belly. Booth grinned as he felt their child kick between them, and he stared in awe down at her stomach. He cradled it between his palms and was content to feel their child move for a few long moments.

"You don't need to be worried about me," Booth assured her. She opened her mouth to protest, or ask another question, or to say something else to him, but he cut her off with another kiss. His fingers stroked down her back, and, helpless against his touch, Brennan melted into him.

"Let's go back to bed," Booth suggested. His hands slipped under her sleep shirt, tracing over her naked back, and Brennan pressed her own palms to his chest. Her fingers found the scar that was still there, easily discernible against his tan skin even after all these years. Under her other palm, she could feel the reassuring thud of his heart.

"I'm here, Bones," he murmured. "I'm right here."

For now, Brennan supposed, that was more than enough.

* * *

**eighth.**

**May 12, 2016**

Settling back against the couch, Brennan took a long sip from the glass of wine she had clutched in her hands. "Is it just me, or have our cases become a little more ridiculous lately?"

The kids were asleep now, and little Hank was almost sleeping entirely through the night. They had some time to themselves for the first time in a long time, and Booth and Brennan were eager to take advantage of it.

Booth had a glass of scotch in his hands, and he nodded his head in agreement. "I'm pretty sure people are getting stupid," he said. "Because that's the only explanation that I can think of."

Brennan laughed at that and tucked herself against Booth's side. He wrapped his arm around her and pulled her even closer to him, dropping a kiss against the top of her head. "We tried to take a step back from all of this," Brennan said, trying to remind herself as much as she was reminding Booth. "It just seems like… we're wasting our time."

Booth arched an eyebrow, and Brennan huffed as she quickly tried to backtrack. "That's not what I mean. Of course, all of our cases are important, and I'm glad we were able to bring justice to those that had committed crimes. It just seems a little… I don't…" Brennan sighed in frustration and closed her eyes. "I don't know how to describe what I'm feeling, exactly."

"It feels empty," Booth supplied.

"Exactly!" Brennan nodded her head vigorously in agreement. "And we haven't gotten a lead on The Puppeteer, and I just…"

"I know, Bones," Booth murmured as he dropped another kiss to her head, this time to her temple. "I know."

Brennan snuggled closer into Booth's side and set aside her glass of wine. "After what happened at the beginning of October…" Her heart clenched at the thought of those hours when they thought that Booth might be dead, and then later, when he had been injured and missing. "We just can't stay away, can we?"

"I guess we can't." Booth drained the rest of his scotch, eyed the baby monitor on the coffee table, and then said, "Let's go to bed."

Booth was surprised when Brennan's entire body tensed in his arms. "I'm not tired."

"Bones." Booth pulled back and looked down at her, taking in the obvious signs of her exhaustion: her blood shot eyes, the bags underneath them, the pale pallor of her skin. As he watched her, Brennan was barely able to hold back a yawn. "You're exhausted. Let's go to bed."

"I don't want to go to bed," Brennan said, instead of claiming that she wasn't tired.

As a detail-oriented person, Booth knew exactly why Brennan was reluctant to go to bed. It wasn't even ten o'clock at night yet, so Booth had no problem staying awake and giving her a few hours. He reached for the remote and flipped through the channels until he settled on a documentary that he knew Brennan had been meaning to watch. He refilled her glass of wine and got another scotch for himself. Booth wrapped his arm around her shoulders again, pulling her close, and she settled against him with a happy little sigh.

Finally, a little after midnight, Brennan was nearly asleep against his shoulder. Booth gently shook her awake, pressing a kiss to her cheek as he stroked her hair back from his face. "Come on, Bones," he encouraged gently. "Let's go to bed."

Brennan shook her head and yawned as she sat up. She stretched her arms over head and blinked rapidly, trying to banish the exhaustion from her mind. "I'm not tired," she insisted yet again.

"Bones…"

"Booth, please."

"If it's the nightmares—"

"The nightmares aren't as bad," Brennan interrupted. "They're just… they're different." Booth's eyes asked the question, and Brennan sighed before she continued. "After last year, I just…"

Brennan trailed off, but she didn't need to continue; Booth knew exactly what she was talking about. This time last year, he had assured her that he was right there for her, and then she had found out about his relapse into gambling. It had been a trying, difficult time for them, and Booth hated that he put her through that.

There were still things about that time that he was working through—he went to his meetings religiously, and had people that he could talk to when things got bad. He and Brennan had a new rule now, where they would always talk when things got to be too much. They had never really hidden things from each other before, ever since the beginning of their partnership. With the addition of their romantic relationship in addition to that partnership, they had still been good about being honest with one another.

It was the arrest that had changed things, and it had been a lot for them to deal with. The loss of Sweets had only compounded that, and then, with the emotional high of Brennan's pregnancy last year, it had simply all been too much for Booth to handle.

They had come a long way since then, and were much happier and in a much better place. They were back to the way they used to be, and even better for it. Brennan knew that, and she didn't want to bring up the past.

"Bones, maybe we should talk about this."

"Talk about what?" It wasn't often that Brennan played dumb, but Booth had to admit that she was much better at it than she used to be. Still, he could see right through her.

"The nightmares, Bones," Booth elaborated, even though Brennan knew exactly what he was talking about. "We should talk about them. It's been eight years since you started having them, and they're still affecting you."

"Because you keep putting yourself in dangerous situations, Booth!" Brennan exclaimed. She pushed on his chest until he let go of her, and she jumped up from the couch and began to pace back and forth. "I know what you did for your brother, and I understand that, Booth, I do. But you got shot. _Again_. You could have died. _Again_. I can't… Booth, do you understand what it could do to me if you died?"

"Bones, please." Booth stood up as well, taking her hand and pulling her to a stop in the middle of her pacing. He took her other hand as well, rubbing both of his calloused thumbs over the back of her hands. "You're not going to want to hear this, but I'm going to tell you anyway. I would take that bullet for you, over and over again. No matter what."

"Booth—"

"I love you, Bones. And if there's anything I can do to keep you from being hurt, I'll do it. And I'll never regret it. It's for you, Bones. It's always been for you."

There were tears in her eyes, and Brennan blinked hard as she shook her head and tightened her fingers around Booth's. "Booth, don't you understand? If anything happened to you, it would hurt me. It _has_ hurt me. Every time something happens to you…" She thought about it all: the things that happened in the years before they were together, the things that happened after, and the things especially that had happened in the last two years: when he had been injured in the attack from Delta Force, and when he had been shot trying to help his brother. "I can't… it kills me, Booth. I need you."

Booth exhaled slowly and cupped her face in his hands then, pulling her close so that he could kiss her. "I love you, Bones," he murmured against her lips. "God, I love you so much."

Brennan wrapped her arms around his neck, pressing her body against his. "Show me," she whispered.

Booth took her hands once again, tugging Brennan towards their bedroom. He showed her just how much she loved her, just as she showed him in return. Later that night, she had no nightmares.

* * *

**ninth.**

**May 12, 2017**

They had been through so much.

It was a marvel that she had constantly wondered about over the past two months as she watched Booth play with their children. Parker was home, and he was actually going to get to spend the entire summer with them. All their kids were together, and they were having the time of their lives playing with their father in their backyard.

It had been a little over a month since Kovac tried to ruin everything for them, and it had been a little over a month since they had defeated him and come out on top. Things had finally returned to normal, and they had all agreed to take a step back from dangerous cases. Booth was now acting as an interim deputy director, and they were sure that he would permanently get the job; Brennan was doing strictly academic work.

There had been one or two criminal cases that they had consulted on, courtesy of Aubrey. For the most part, however, they stayed away from the more dangerous aspects of their former jobs. Finally, after all these years, they felt that they were ready to step back, ready to allow the next generation to take over what they had started. It was time.

Booth kissed the top of Christine's head and ruffled both Hank and Parker's hair before he came into the house, walking into the kitchen to see where Brennan was watching their children. She knew that he was coming, and she readily leaned into his embrace when he wrapped his arms around her waist from behind.

"You seem happy," Booth murmured as he pressed a kiss to the side of her neck.

"I am happy," Brennan assured him. She looked over her shoulder at her husband, smiling at him to reassure him.

"Are you sure?" Booth prompted. "I know this time of year isn't always easy for you, and after the whole thing with Kovac—"

"Please," Brennan interrupted. "Don't talk about him. That's… it's all over. We don't need to revisit that."

It was true, and they both knew it. Finally, that chapter of their lives was closed. They could live normally, be a family without looking over their shoulders for danger constantly. They would consult, and they would help, but they would no longer be in the direct line of danger. They could move on with the next phase of their lives, and both Brennan and Booth were excited for it.

"Bones, please," Booth said. "Last night and the night before that, I woke up and you weren't there, and I… I just want to help you. Please."

Brennan exhaled slowly before she turned around in Booth's arms, and she placed her hands against his chest. "They aren't… the nightmares aren't like they used to be. I'm not… I'm not dreaming about you getting shot."

"Okay," Booth murmured as he smoothed her hair back from her face. It killed him that for nearly ten years, she had been dreaming about him taking a bullet for her. He should have known, during those years right after, that she had loved him. She might not have been ready to admit it—hell, she might not have been able—but he should have known. All the signs were there, but they had both been too afraid to cross that ridiculous line.

Things were different, now. They had been together for over six years, married for half that time. They loved each other, and even though they had loved one another long before they admitted it, it had always been there. After everything they had been through, they were still here, still together, still very much in love. They had defied the odds, had disproved all of the theories Brennan had been worried about.

They were _here_. They were in _love_. They were _them_. They had their _family_. That was all that mattered.

Brennan thought about the past two nights, when she had woken up and gone down to get a drink of water to relax before she returned to bed with Booth. Her nightmares hadn't been explicit, the way they used to be; she didn't dream about feeling Booth's blood underneath her fingers, didn't see the light fading from his eyes as she pleaded with him to stay alive.

She just felt the vestiges of those nightmares—she knew that she had them, but she didn't remember the details. Brennan was grateful for that fact, since it meant that (finally) she was moving on. She knew, now, that Booth would always be prepared to give his life for her. He loved her, he would kill for her, and he would die for her.

And she would do the same for him.

It was just the way they were. Brennan had accepted it fully, and knew that he would protect her the same way that he would protect their children, and she knew that he knew she would do the same. Their love had survived so much, and now it would continue on—unthreatened, able to grow and nourish.

People would know just how much they loved one another. They would know just what that love did, how that love had saved them and everyone around them.

"I love you," Brennan told him, because she felt like he needed to hear it. Because of him, she knew how to open up, how to express how she was feeling. For so long, she had kept her heart closed off, kept her feelings to herself because she had been so afraid. Booth had changed all of that for her. It maybe had taken her some time to realize it, but she had gotten there. And Booth had been right there with her, always—every step of the way.

Booth smiled at her, and it was that charm smile she had first seen from him twelve years ago. Even now, it still made her heart skip a beat. "I love you too, Bones."

Brennan knew in that moment, that they could face anything, as a long as they were together.

* * *

**Thanks for reading! It's probably obvious, but some of the later seasons of **_**Bones**_** weren't exactly great, but I lived for the Booth and Brennan moments. It's one of the few shows that I've seen where the main characters have gotten together and they kept it going, and I was gratified to see it ending with Booth and Brennan happy and together. Hopefully, I did them justice. :)**


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